Rookie Mistakes
by Mahiri Chuma
Summary: He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. Tony and Tim make a rookie mistake. Tim/Tony Friendship fic. *on hiatus*
1. DiNozoes and McStakes

Rookie Mistakes

**By: **Mahiri Chuma

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything NCIS related – though I really wish I did, and _if_ I did, oh the whumpage there would be!

**Summary:** He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. Toy and Tim make a rookie mistake.

**A/N:** Hey NCIS fans! This is my first NCI fanfic! I wanted to do a Tim/Tony friendship fic so here you have it. I just love these two and hope this little ficlet does them an ounce of justice.

xxxxxxxxxx

Rookie Mistakes

Chapter One: DiNo-zoes and McStakes

xxxxxxxxxxx

He really hoped he would be able to get out of this. He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. He always assumed he would go out in a rain of gunfire, poison by Ziva, maybe saving a beautiful woman or hell, Gibbs; but dying of hypothermia surrounded by slabs of cow and other nameless meats in a giant freezer?

Pathetic.

"P-Probie you had better got a-a damned g-good reason for shut-shutting that door behind us."

Tony was trying very hard to find the silver lining of this particular cloud (or clown if Ziva was speaking) but after finding nothing, not even an inkling of evidence to convict the man of the triple homicide of three Navy officers, he was becoming frustrated. Even after much prodding of the meat, looking for an area with mobile reception and testing of the doors accompanied by bruised and sore shoulders, they were at a loss.

Tony shook his head of the predicament for a moment and focused on staying warm as he shivered violently and watched his breath condense in the cold air as he held his arms tight to his chest.

"You kn-know I didn't sh-shut the door. If y-you hadn't c-called the room clear w-when it WASN'T cle-clear the suspect wouldn't h-have locked us in here!"

Tony's eyes narrowed and he pointed a finger at the man sitting next to him, his hand shaking and his eyes wide at the other man's accusation.

"It W-WAS clear, Probie! I-It was until y-you announced yourself b-by tripping over everything in th-the kitchen, y-you're like some kind of cartoon chara-character, McGoofy."

"I j-just didn't th-think it was a great idea, Tony, t-to check the freezer by walking all the w-way in!"

"Hey, it's c-called thorough p-police work, McGee, t-try it sometime."

Tony took a deep breath and winced. His lungs were beginning to feel somewhat tight, as if he had a bad chest cold and his throat was beginning to tingle with the beginnings of a cough. He could feel McGee's eyes on him and he quickly hid any discomfort, turning to the slab of meat dangling next to him.

McGee knew Tony's lungs had to be bothering him given his rather impressive medical history. From what he had witnessed during the past couple of years particularly during the winter months, Tony had an hour or so before he began to really cough. He too was beginning to feel the extreme discomfort of their environment. He had long ago forgotten the existence of his toes or ears and a small but persistent ache was forming behind his eyes.

The sooner they got out of there the better.

"W-We can keep arguing a-bout this, Tony OR we can start th-thinking of a way to get out."

"You think I haven't b-been trying to f-figure that out, Probie? Rule n-number 29: look around, th-the answer is i-in your surroundings."

"Gibbs never s-said that, T-Tony."

"W-well, consider th-that an of-ficial DiNozzo rule right after d-don't feed your p-probie after midnight and don't open letters s-sealed with a kiss."

"I would n-never follow those r-rules."

McGee shifted uncomfortably on the freezing ground, picking his hands up quickly as the cold steel threatened to blister his fingers. If he hadn't known that he was currently in a meat locker he wouldn't have been able to tell whether the sensation had been scorching hot or freezing cold.

"Don't touch the gr-ground Probsicle, unless y-you want to become the s-six million dollar man."

The glint in Tony's eyes was all McGee needed to catch the movie reference despite his complete ignorance to what that movie was.

"I'm assuming th-that's a movie, Tony?"

Tony made a sound of disbelief and shook his head despite the uncontrollable shivering. He found himself wishing the weather hadn't been so nice that day as he had neglected to wear his NCIS windbreaker and was stuck with the swiftly stiffening suit and non-insulatory shoes. Sure they were expensive and they sure were shiny but they weren't exactly meant for a walk in the tundra.

"Nope, T-TV Show. G-guy loses both legs, an eye and h-his right arm…get's 'em replaced w-with bionic ones. H-he becomes a secret agent. G-Good stuff, played by L-Lee Majors. 1974."

McGee shook his head before blowing hot air into his cupped hands.

"Well, I-I'm going to have to wait, f-for the technology to catch up. Until th-then, It'll be McCripple."

Tony couldn't help but let out an amused snort, surprised by McGee's joke.

"L-Look on the bright side. I'd f-find a really nice, b-beautiful level 5 s-sorceress to wipe your ass f-for you."

It was McGee's turn to laugh. As much as Tony got on his nerves he occasionally surprised him with his knowledge of terminology from his own life.

"I'd be an amputee, Tony, not quadriplegic."

"S-she doesn't h-have to know, it'll b-be our dirty secret." McGee smiled at the thought of Tony interviewing a woman to do that for him; Tony had such a strange sense of humor.

The two men sat in silence for a moment listening to each others breathing, Tony's beginning to become slightly ragged as their time in the freezer lengthened.

"Ok, it-its been an hour. I say we d-do something a bit more constructive while w-we wait for rescue."

"S-sure, McGI-Joe…one problem. L-like I said before, freezers are locked tight f-from the outside, airt-tight too, a-and they get to -20 degrees Fahrenheit, l-last thing we want to do i-is work up a sw-sweat or re-reduce blood flow to our extrem-extremities…" He was cut off as the tingling in his throat grew even more persistent and he began to cough. The fit didn't last for more than a few seconds but he felt spent by the end of it and let his head fall back against the freezing steel, eyes clenched tightly closed as tears stung his eyes.

McGee threw yet another worried glance in his direction but decided not to mention anything relating to that "P" word. He could only hope that Gibbs or Ziva or even Abby by some gothic forensic science miracle would find them soon.

"H-How do you know s-so much about freezers? Y-You plan this."

"I-if I had I w-woud've brought a c-coat…in college I w-worked at a couple of restaurants, p-part of the initiation into the kitchen i-is to sit in the f-freezer for ten minutes. D-don't remember it b-being this c-cold though," another short coughing fit stopped him, the sound becoming throaty and painful to hear, "d-damn, it really is cold in here."

McGee knew they had to be in the first stages of hypothermia, he was barely able to move his fingers at this point and was beginning to feel slightly warmer than before. He could tell Tony's shivering was beginning to slow down and he was sure he was only a step behind the senior field agent. Every agent had minimal first aid training and he knew what to do in this situation and he was sure Tony did as well; it was getting there that was the problem.

However, as he became increasingly more tired and watched as Tony began to pale he figured to hell with it.

"T-Tony, you know in first aid t-training, how they tell us to, you know –"

"No way, P-Probes."

'Well I f-figured, if we huddled to-together, we c-could delay hypothermia by quite a b-bit of time."

"It aint th-the end yet Probie, not until the fat lady s-sings and I don't h-hear you singing."

"Now's n-not the time to be m-macho, Tony."

"Oh, Probie. It's n-not about being macho, it's about not w-wanting to attend a warm up s-session with McCuddles."

Tony felt another painful series of coughs coming and took a deep breath, hoping to appease his aching lungs and avoid the inevitable. The cold air only seemed to make it worse and he found himself doubled over, his chest unreasonably tight and his head spinning.

"Duck's not going too h-happy with you, T-Tony." Tim wasn't too sure how to address Tony's quickly deteriorating health and decided a light joke would be the best way to express his concern.

"F-for what? Not wanting to spend th-the day in your arms. It m-might be different if you we-were McGirl, b-but I'm not that lucky."

"You know what I-I mean, Tony." Tim swallowed hard as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering. Just talking was becoming impossible.

Tony was silent for a moment, understanding all to clearly what McGee was implying. Anytime he so much as sneezed everyone, save a confused Ziva, dropped what they were doing only to surround him like mother hens. He knew it sounded bad, and sincerely hoped it wasn't that bad, but felt McGee might need a little convincing, despite his uncertainty.

"Yeah, Probes. I'm g-good," as if to accentuate how "good" he was doing, another wet cough erupted from his lungs and he gave a meek grin, "b-besides, Ducky loves my co-company."

"Tony…" Tony understood McGee's concern but there was simply nothing they could do and he was starting to get frustrated. He raked a hand through his hair and turned towards Tim, his eyes locking with his and the annoyance clear in his voice.

"McGee!" Tim looked at him for a moment before turning his head away, eyes locking onto the meat dangling in front of him, hurt and an inkling of anger in his eyes.

Tony immediately regretted his short outburst, but things weren't looking to well and he didn't feel like dealing with the concern being thrown his way. He was never good at dealing with the fact that people around him could feel concern for him.

He shivered violently for a moment and let his head fall back against the wall as another deep cough got caught in his throat. Despite the cold, Tony's arms had long since dropped to his lap, not wanting to touch the freezing ground as McGee had done before. He knew he was cold but he simply couldn't find the energy to hold them up. They felt like weights and he had found it strangely relieving to relinquish the heat they offered.

Tony turned to McGee who had become unusually quiet after his last outburst. Tony gave his junior agent a once over and didn't really like what he was seeing. McGee was pale and had dark rings under his eyes, the shivering had slowed down and the backs of his hands were resting against the ground. Despite his apparent lack of awareness, his gaze was steady and it took Tony a second to realize he was staring at something rather than into space. He followed the man's gaze to a large slab of meat.

"Probie…" His voice had suddenly gained a hoarse, rough quality and he swallowed a bit sluggishly, his eyes blinking slowly. McGee continued to look ahead, ignoring him for a moment. "Tim…" the use of his name caught his attention, causing him to glance sideways, "your hands." It took Tim a moment to seem to comprehend what Tony was saying, thinking, for a moment, that he was confused as was common with progressive hypothermia. As Tony looked down at his hands, he realized, however, that he was touching the steel. He promptly lifted them to find them red, swollen and beginning to blister.

Unable to do anything about it he dropped the frost bitten hands into his lap. Tony shifted his long, outstretched legs for a minute, attempting to move but decided to give up, unable to lift them.

"Let me see, Tim. Y-You could have frostbite." Tim snorted, though due to his shivering it sounded more akin to a gasp.

"I'm good, Tony." He looked at Tony with a steely gaze, mimicking the words Tony had said before when he had voiced his own concerns.

Tony exhaled, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. McGee ignored him and continued to stare ahead.

"What're you looking at?" He cleared his throat as a slow, wet cough made it's way lazily out of his lungs, his eyes continuing to water and his head throbbing painfully. It was becoming harder to hold his eyes open and it was taking all his attention and energy to speak the words with some clarity.

"The meat."

"Oh. Why?"

"Just thinking about how I'm g-going to become a vegetarian…" Tony chuckled for a moment, his eyes drooping further. He was sure McGee was saying something more but he couldn't quite hear it. His lungs ached terribly and his coughing was becoming more and more frequent. He had seen so many movies where the protagonist was stuck in a frozen wasteland, slowly dying of hypothermia, except those people were dying on Everest not in a crappy Italian Restaurant meat locker.

"Tony!" Tony hadn't realized that he had stopped listening or that McGee had been shaking his shoulder for the past 15 seconds.

He opened his eyes, unaware he had ever closed them, to see McGee looking at him, worry written all over his pale face. Tony coughed for a minute and tried to grin but failed miserably; his face felt frozen, his muscle uncooperative.

"Sorry, Probes. Was jus' thinking 'bout that movie K2…the one on the mountain."

"Oh yeah, I've seen that one. Except we're not gonna die." McGee watched only carefully for a moment before he was satisfied he wouldn't scare him and fall asleep again.

"Rule 32, McGee…DiNozzos don't die in meat lockers."

"I like that one."

"I didn't say Probies, I don't know what happens to them…"

"Well, seeing as I'm, " McGee paused to swallow, why was every little thing becoming so difficult? 'Seeing as I'm not a Probie anymore, I don't see how it matters."

"Oh it matters. You'll always be my little Probie. Kind of like my little pony, 'cept you don't have a tat-tattoo of an ice cream cone on your ass." Tony stopped for a moment and mustered up all his strength to turn towards McGee, eyes serious and clear.

"Or do you?"

"Rule number 87: a gentlemen n-never tells."

"So Probalicious d-does have a rule book? Rule number 4-40: a gentlemen always tells."

"Like I said, Tony, I would never follow those rule…"

Tony was beginning to feel quite pleased with McGee's ability to share in the banter, perhaps he really had taught him something after all. That or he was just being nice in their dying hours. He didn't really care either way; at least they had switched out that incessant stuttering for slurring.

He felt another coughing fit coming and turned his head away from McGee. He really was starting to regret opening that letter all those years ago. He cleared his throat once again and let out a shallow sigh.

"Maybe," He stopped, suddenly feeling tired, "—maybe we should've done that body heat thing."

Tim could only manage a lazy "Hmm" as he felt his eyes slip close.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Yay! Our silly boys are always in trouble. Coming up, Tony and Probilicious start to take survival a little more seriously and continue to engage in good o' male bonding, but the question is, where the hell is the cavalry? Please read and review as it only makes me want to write faster, hope you enjoyed!


	2. Some Like it Cold?

Rookie Mistakes

**By: **Mahiri Chuma

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything NCIS related – though I really wish I did, and _if_ I did, oh the whumpage there would be!

**Summary:** He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. Toy and Tim make a rookie mistake.

**A/N:** Whoah. I apologize for the ridiculous wait and there will be no hard feelings if no one reads this. I do have an excuse. I wrote this chapter TWICE and both times my computer decided it was going to commit technocide. I fell into a writing depression and didn't have the heart to continue but I'm out of the funk and back in the fiction, dear readers. I hope you enjoy and I will not allow you to wait this long ever again. Je te promets!

xxxxxxxxxx

Rookie Mistakes

Chapter Two: Some Like it Cold?

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey! What do you think your doing?"

Tim's eyes snapped open as Tony's loud voice, filled with absolute disbelief, reverberated through his head.

"Wh-What? What are you talking ab-about?" His tongue felt thick and unusual in his mouth, almost as if it had been numbed by an overly powerful anesthetic.

"You didn't just seriously almost allow yourself to s-sleep, did you? Did you even go to f-field school?" Tony glared at his partner, wanting to shake him of his idiocy. If he hadn't felt so damned tired himself, he would have.

"I was just resting my eyes, Tony."

"That's what they all say, P-Probie, and then bam, resting your eyes t-turns into resting in peace."

"Well, I'm not rest-ing my eyes anymore, so crisis av-averted."

"Don't you b-be giving me lip, Probsicle. I-I ..." Tony double over, his ribs aching mercilessly as more wet, painful coughs shook his frame. He waited for the painful hacking to dissipate as he crouched over, one arm curled around his ribs.

"You ok-"

"Fine." Tony gave Tim a pointed look. 'Are you okay' was on Tony's question blacklist.

He leaned back as his incessant hacking ended. He wiped the back of his sleeve against his mouth and noticed a violent spot of red just at the end of his shirt cuff. He glanced sideways to see if McGee had seen and though he could feel that his eyes were on him, he knew he hadn't.

Tony had become quite accustomed to his yearly bought with bronchitis and when he got going, when the coughing became this bad, he coughed his throat raw and eventually began coughing blood. Something he had been very good at hiding during the winter months. He knew that he would be taking more sick days than he wanted if anyone took notice. Gibbs would see to that.

Speaking of Gibbs ... Tony checked his watch. 40 minutes. That's all it's been? They had only left 50 minutes ago and weren't expected to check in for another 10.

Tony was due for a Gibbs head slap when they got out of this. They had only been following a paper trail so when they saw the man they were looking for in the back room of the same restaurant he was last seen in they were admittedly surprised. So surprised that they both failed to call Gibbs or Ziva or anyone for that matter.

A real rookie mistake.

Tony reached into his pocket and fumbled with his phone, barely able hold it. He held it up, as he had done 30 minutes ago and sighed. He didn't expect there to be reception but he was kicking himself for making such a stupid mistake.

Just as he was about to reprimand McGee for not calling in or reminding him to call in, as good Probies do, the sound of a ringing phone broke through his thoughts.

His hand automatically went to his pocket, though he knew it couldn't be his own.

"My cell." McGee sat up, eyes wide in surprise.

"Your cell? You s-said you lost your cell." Tony pushed himself off the wall, his knees cracking painfully as he stood and his shivering starting anew.

"I did," McGee followed suite and tilted his head, waiting for the next ring, "I just d-didn't remember wh-where."

The two men followed the noise to the large, steel door.

"I must've d-dropped it on m-my way in." Tony craned his neck, trying to get a good look out of the small, rectangular window. The window was hazy with frost and despite Tony's best efforts, he couldn't wipe away enough to get a clear view.

He scanned the kitchen's dirty floor. A small blinking red light caught his eye.

"Well, well Probie. Looks like y-you did something right, though it was a m-mistake, I'll g-give it to you."

"Gee, thanks T-Tony."

They turned away from the door and reassumed their positions slumped against the wall. Just standing had been impossibly tiring.

"I'm t-taking bets. One hundred b-bucks says 15 m-minutes. Watcha got McGambles?"

"T-Ten. A-Are you sure you c-can afford to l-lose th-this, Tony?"

"I m-may not be a big sh-shot author, MrcGregor, but I've g-got Gibbs-sense, it's like sp-spidey sense but-"

"I got it, T-Tony!"

"So, y-you in?" Tony turned his to look at McGee, a weak grin gracing his features and his tired eyes lazily awaiting an answer.

"Sure, Tony."

The phone began to ring again and Tony grinned. Within ten minutes Abby would have a location and five minutes after that they would be out of there. Gibbs would head slap them. Abby would nearly crush them to death with affection. Tim would owe him a hundred big ones. Ziva would watch them with concerned eyes whilst slighting their manhood and they would never speak of this again.

xxxxxxxx

Tony checked his watch. Eleven minutes had passed and, as expected, the team hadn't shown up yet.

"I hate t-t say it McGambit but, Sh-Show me the money!"

McGee rolled his eyes, which was more of a slow blink. He would have given anything to be able to sleep or, better yet, get out of this damned freezer.

"You didn't just quote..."

"Oh, I d-did. Now," Tony swallowed hoping to stifle a cough but proving unsuccessful. Another blotch of red made itself known and he quickly wiped it away. "Now pay up."

"I d-don't have it on me."

"If I'm g-gonna die here, Prob-Probie, you-" He crouched over once again, feeling the beginning of another painful series of coughs. His throat was on fire and he held his ribs once again, the muscles around them twitching wildly, as he waited for the painful fit to end.

This time, however, they didn't stop.

He felt as though he were choking, unable to do anything but exhale forcefully, no new air coming in and absolutely no relief.

McGee watched as it became apparent that this particular fit wasn't going to meet it's end anytime soon and felt a surge of panic rise in the back of his throat.

Here, trapped in this ridiculous predicament, there was no way to get help. There was no one to call. He thought about his phone laying idle, useless, on the other side of the door. He thought about how Gibbs would simply order Tony yo be o.k. and he would be. How there was no Ducky to patch him up. There was no one but him and Tony. He hadn't the slightest idea what to do for his ailing partner.

And this horrified him.

"T-Tony?" he tried. He was hoping Tony would grin and admit it was all a joke, that he was just being his usual annoying self and it was a ruse to get that one hundred dollars out of him.

Whether Tony heard him or not, he could not tell. His fellow agent just remained hunched over, his throat barking so painfully it sounded as though he was mere seconds from coughing up an actual lung.

He could start to see an unhealthy and frightening blue tinge blossom on the other man's lips and felt that nagging feeling of panic turn into near hysteria.

He did the only thing he could think of.

He pushed himself closer to the struggling agent, crouched beside him and threw his right arm across the man's shoulders. He could recall his own mother doing something similar when he, as a child, was overly upset, as children do, about trivial things. She would put a comforting arm around him and have her breathe with her. As he recalled, it always worked.

"Tony." Nothing, he wasn't sure the man was even aware of him touching him.

"Tony, look at me. Tony!" He was rewarded with a sideways glance, his hazel eyes bright with pain and discomfort.

"Good, Tony. I know it hurts but you have to relax,"

Relax. Right.

Tony only shuddered more violently in response and McGee was sure he saw a light speckling of red on the freezer floor.

He wiped at his forehead with his left hand. In his desperate state, a part of him had forgotten about the cold atmosphere and he was sure a trail of sweat was making it's way down his temple,

"Breath in, Tony."

Tim breathed in deeply, feeling a strange, uncomfortable tingling as the cold air bit his own lungs. He couldn't imagine the agony Tony must be feeling. Actually, he nearly could as he watched the way his partner's brow pinched together tightly and how is hands clenched and unclenched around his side.

"With me, Tony. Breathe with me." Tony continued to cough but he could feel Tony's shoulders quaking under his arm; he really was trying.

"That's it, in and out." His desperation was almost unbearable, he felt like he could scream. He was watching his partner slowly, very slowly, suffocate to death and he was powerless.

"C'mon, Tony." His hand was clenching Tony's shoulder in what had to be a painful grasp, the man's jacket crumpled in his palm as he begged him to breathe.

"Please, Tony."

Finally, he heard a most wonderful sound, akin to hearing a rare "good job" from Gibbs.

Tony gasped painfully as his spasming muscles finally relented. He would take a painful sounding breath and cough a few more times but each time he would breath again.

As the dangerous coughing fit reached it's end, Tony felt absolutely exhausted. The world around him spun and nausea gripped him and intensified with each throb of his pained head.

McGee watched as the man next to him finally regained complete control, despite the occasional cough, and fell into him, resting his head against Tim's shoulder. His eyes were still clenched tightly shut and his breathing sounded terribly hoarse.

They remained silent for a moment while the freezer's coolant pipes hissed softly, breathing it's own relieved exhale.

"Tony?" McGee was almost afraid to speak. It felt as though the mere utterance of Tony's name would disturb his fragile state and throw him back into another terrible fit.

Tony remained still. His hungry lungs taking in precious oxygen, crackling ominously. McGee frowned as he noticed the blue tint hadn't left the other agent's lips. Tony was exhausted and ill. He didn't expect much of a response from there on.

Thus, he was surprised when Tony spoke.

It was hoarse and weak, but it was there.

"Th-Thanks, Tim."

Tim leaned his head back against the wall and only then realized, as his cheeks tingled with heat, that he was crying.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"They're where, Abs?" Abby fidgeted under Gibb's gaze. Gibbs could be so intense sometimes and with her own worries on top of that strange angry, out to kill concern emanating from him, she was down right nervous.

"At Il Portofino. It's an Italian Restaurant. But I don't think they're just having lunch Gibbs, my gut tells me they're in trouble. I mean, what if there was a hold up, or they got involved in some crazy mobster's plans, the possibilities are endless, Gibbs!"

"Abby! Address, now."

"Right, here." She thrust a piece of paper with the valuable information at Gibbs and wrung her hands.

When Tony's phone went straight to voicemail and McGee's continued to ring without an answer, Gibbs stormed down to Abby's and demanded she check their positions.

Abby's stomach churned, as it always did when Gibbs was this worried and her boys were missing.

Gibbs took the paper and turned to leave, abandoning his coffee.

"Bring them back, Gibbs." Abby continued to fiddle with her hands. Sometimes she found it extremely frustrating that she was stuck in her lab all day and couldn't go on these rescue missions. She loved her lab, she really did! But sometimes it was just too much waiting to hear whether or not someone would be coming back to her, and it happened far too often.

"Please."

"I always do, Abs." Gibbs offered in a voice that said he would do just that.

Abs smiled nervously and the churning in her stomach lessened. Gibbs was right. He always did bring them back and this time would be no different.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Rescue is on it's way! I hope you enjoyed and i offer you my deepest and most sincere apologies for the wait. On top of my two month computer problem, I just started a masters program. It's an accelerated NP program and I have never been so busy in my life! Writing is what really relaxes me though so I will do my best to get the next chapter out ASAP. I promise it will not be months.

Well, please review if you see fit. I would really appreciate it and it let's me know there are in fact people reading my senseless drabbles!

Tak Fyrir!


	3. Not Like This

Rookie Mistakes

By: Mahiri Chuma

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own anything NCIS related – though I really wish I did, and if I did, oh the whumpage there would be!

Summary: He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. Toy and Tim make a rookie mistake.

A/N: Thank-you all for the wonderful feedback. I do apologize for the wait between the first two chapters but I am glad you wandered back to this strange little tale. Someone posed a good question concerning the boys using their Sigs to shoot out the window or the lock. I'm not sure if any of you have ever been in one of those behemoths but they are quite the little fortresses. There is no handle on the inside, though that might have changed due to obvious safety issues (there are reports of people locking themselves inside!), and there is no obvious internal locking stage due to the doors using levers. Levers don't operate as normal door handle locks do, they have claws or thick deadbolts. If you could even find the lock you probably wouldn't be able to shoot through it! It's made of inches of steel! As for the window, many of these freezers are made "explosion proof", yep, that's right, "explosion proof." Check out the manuals/sales pitch online. Also, check out this fun little article:

.

Now you all know what to do should you find yourself in this ridiculous but, oddly enough, life threatening situation. Enough said, onto the next chapter!

xxxxxxxxxx

Rookie Mistakes

Chapter Three: Not Like This

xxxxxxxxxxx

Tim stared down into the hot cup of coffee wondering, briefly, how it got there. He didn't drink coffee often. Didn't even like it that much. However, for reasons he wasn't quite sure of, he welcomed it's presence and brought it up to his lips to take a tentative sip.

It was hot. He knew that. But it didn't feel hot. And it didn't have much of a taste. Strange.

"You got those case files for me, McGee?" Right. He was on a case. He was on a case? Gibbs was standing at his desk, a matching cup of coffee in his hand. He looked at him with expectant eyes and McGee wasn't quite sure what it was he was actually expecting from him.

"Um, yeah boss. They're right here." He reached over only to find the case files were not in fact there. He furrowed his brow, somewhat puzzled. That is where he kept his case files, right?

"Get those case files for me, McGee." Tim watched his Boss stalk away. He wanted to get those case files but he hadn't a clue to what case Gibbs was referring to. None the less he nodded.

"On it boss."

"What?" Tim blinked slowly as Tony's voice interrupted his search for those pesky, nameless files.

"Tony?"

The room around him shifted and suddenly he was somewhere extremely cold. So cold he could simply call himself numb. The cup of coffee had disappeared, as had Gibbs, and he recognized his surroundings to be the inside of a freezer. What was he doing inside a freezer?

"You said ... s-something." Tony's voice was slow and sluggish, the words barely forming as they made their way out of his mouth.

Hadn't he been talking to Gibbs a moment ago? He looked over to his right at Tony, his eyes closed and his breathing coming out in coarse rasps. Something in his mind clicked.

Hallucinating. He had been hallucinating.

Tim shook his head slightly, horrified at the idea of having temporarily lost his mind. He vaguely remembered learning that in the late stages of hypothermia, the victim would start to become confused, they could even hallucinate.

And what did he hallucinate about? Not Abby or her tattoos. Not working on his latest novel. Not being awarded some sort of honor. No, none of that.

When Timothy McGee hallucinated, he hallucinated about filing case reports for Gibbs.

His dying thoughts were about filing case reports. If he got out of this, he vowed, he would set his priorities straight.

He blinked hard, trying to ensure that whatever *that* was, it wouldn't happen again.

"D-don't worry Pro-" Tony took a deep breath, clearly having issues with forming complete sentences, "Probie. We all have .. n-nightmares about Gibbs."

McGee could spot a weak attempt at a grin on the other man's face before it fell slack and he let out a slow cough. So he had heard him. He could only hope that he would assume that he had actually been asleep.

"Th-though I don't halluc-inate about him." Damn. No such luck.

"I w-wasn't .. hallucinating, Tony."

"Your eyes were o-open. Stage Th-three," it was becoming far too difficult to speak now so he decided to settle for small, easy incomplete sentences.

"Confusion. Ha-Hallucinations ... Slur-rring." he would have chuckled at the fact that he had slurred his speech while saying the word but he was just too tired. Instead, he took a deep, unsatisfying and cough provoking breath.

Stage Three. A part of McGee's mind warned him that there was no stage four. That stage three ended in death.

Death. It was a danger that came along with their line of work. But like this? All because of a few bad moves and spur of the moment decisions. He had been shot at countless times and placed in much more dangerous situations as this, Tony even more so, and it was really possible that this was it.

Even in the after life he would be humiliated. His funeral would be a joke. His family would be speechless. He would be the agent and the author that died in a damn freezer. His book sales would skyrocket, but he wouldn't reap the benefits. It didn't get much more pathetic. Maybe Gibbs would lie for them...

xxxxxxxxxx

Stage Three. Tony let out a wheezing cough and thought about what that meant. He had been keeping track of their symptoms ever since they stopped shivering, which had been shockingly early in their misadventure.

It had been twenty minutes since they made their bet and a part of Tony was unwilling to accept that there would be no victor in their bet. He could always trick McGee into thinking he had won. Yes. That's the way he would play it once they got out of here.

The lost bet also meant that they had spent little over an hour in a steel box at -14 degrees. He could remember checking the temperature during their first ten minutes inside, watching the offending needle hover between -13 and -14 degrees. The hour spent in there was equivalent to spending an hour outside, at night, midwinter and extremely underdressed.

He felt his eyelids droop close and he jerked, halting his body's attempt to sleep.

Not like this.

He hadn't survived the plague for *this.* Gibbs didn't slap him on the forehead and tell him he wasn't going to die only for *this* to happen.

He wasn't going to disappoint Gibbs. He just couldn't.

"Tony ... if ... we don't -" Tony swallowed and felt an odd heat twist in his gut. He was not going to let McGee accept this and continue whatever it was he wanted to say.

"Don't, Probie." His voice felt suddenly strong, though still carrying it's hoarseness. He gave McGee his best Gibbs stare and watched as the other man hung his head, his chin resting on his chest.

"Tony." he said tiredly. He was giving up.

Tony grit his teeth. Though the terrible fatigue continued to pull at him he felt a burst of anger blossom in his chest.

"I hope I wasn't that b-bad .. of a Senior Agent, Tim, to make you th-hink that .. whatever you were ab-bout to say is o-ok."

Tony watched as McGee closed his eyes and looked away. He had mustered all of his energy to ensure the statement packed enough disappointment and hurt. He couldn't think of any other way than to guilt the man into surviving.

Sometimes it frightened him how much he had learned from Gibbs. Only Gibbs could make a man feel guilty over something like dying.

"Y-you owe me the one hundred just .. just for that, Probie." And he meant it. He was going to collect as soon as Gibbs showed up.

There was silence between the two men. Tony pulled his tired, numb arms around his chest for what had to be the millionth time. No matter how much he tried, the damn things insisted on falling from their position to his lap or the freezing floor, depriving him from a miniscule amount of warmth.

He felt McGee shift, albeit extremely slowly, next to him.

"Th-"

"Don't mention it." He let out a slow cough that burned his chest and tore at his throat.

"No rea-"

"Ever. Jus-st pay up and ... we ... we're ev-even." He listened as McGee exhaled heavily, making a noise that was probably supposed to represent exasperation.

Satisified for the time being, Tony sat in silence. He didn't dare close his eyes, despite his eyelids desperate attempts to force him into a deadly coma.

Instead, he stared at the steel door that was holding them prisoner.

If only he had been more careful he wouldn't have gotten McGee in this situation. He was the Senior Field Agent for Christ's sakes! Senior Field Agents didn't make these sort of mistakes. They didn't endanger the lives of their fellow agents. When he got out of this - *if* his mind reminded him - he wasn't even sure he could face Gibbs.

No. He knew he couldn't face Gibbs. Or Ziva. Or Abby. Or Ducky.

Maybe he wouldn't have to, he thought morbidly. Despite what he had told McGee, he wasn't so sure he could stay awake much longer.

Another dry cough escaped his lips. He choked for a moment and closed his eyes as he waited for his throat to cease their painful spasms.

Despite his humiliation, the least he could do was hold on until Gibbs got there. He owed him that.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The tired screeched, burning a set of angry looking black streaks into the pavement, as Gibbs pulled in front of a restaurant named 'Il Portofino.'

The building was slightly run down, it's sides were covered in graffiti and the heavy looking locks on the windows and door were evidence of the area's high crime rate.

"Ziva." He nodded towards the alley, silently telling her to take the back entrance.

Her eyes shifted towards the alley and she pulled out her Sig. Wordlessly, she wandered into the filth ridden passageway.

She stepped over trash and rotten food in various stages of decay and silently pressed her weight against the dirty, metal door. She hadn't a doubt in her mind that this place was violating enough health codes to condemn it.

She pulled at the handle and was surprised to find it open. Slowly, leading with her Sig, she moved into the building. Though decently early in the evening, the restaurant was completely abandoned. The cash register was still in place and the everything looked quite ordinary, save for the occasional knocked over table and chair.

Gibbs appeared at her side and gave her a nod.

Clear.

He pointed towards the kitchen and then an opening that led into an apparent basement.

Again, she nodded and watched him slink silently through the double doors of the kitchen.

She headed towards the opening just behind the counter and moved into the bowels of the restaurant, descending a small staircase that led into what appeared to be the storage room.

There was nothing spectacular or unusual about the room save that it was extremely poorly lit. A large freezer door hissed ominously to her right and several food racks stood in various parts of the room, some holding fruits and vegetables, others bread.

She could hear Gibbs coming down the steps as she moved towards one of the racks of food. A strange draft pushed past the rack, adding an odd chill to the musky air. She pushed it aside only to find an awkward, small wooden door.

"Anything?" Gibbs had come up behind her in complete silence, as he tended to do. She shook her head in response to his question.

"No. But look at this. A hidden door?"

Gibbs eyed the door suspiciously before signaling Ziva to cover him. He leaned forward, gun at the ready, and turned the handle.

It was unlocked.

He nodded at Ziva and pushed slightly, moving the door with little effort.

Ziva's eyebrows shot up, the only indication to her surprise. Gibbs simply lowered his gun.

"Now we know what DiNozzo and McGee were doing here."

"But not where they are." Ziva looked around, a feeling of dread creeping up her spine. Here was the evidence but where were her fellow agents? Even more unsettling, where was the man they had been trailing?

Gibbs shifted beside her, turning towards the center of the room.

"Don't be so sure Ziva." His voice held a sudden urgency that frightened her. It was faint and to the untrained ear, it was sound as though he were merely reprimanding her.

She watched as he bent over and picked something up, turning it over in his hand. She got closer and was able to identify the small silver object.

McGee's phone.

"But where -" She watched as Gibbs took a second to look around before his eye locked on the heavy steel door in front of him.

She felt her stomach drop, something she wasn't overly aquainted with. She had been down here this whole time ...

"Ziva, call an ambulance. Get Ducky." Her phone was out of her pocket before he could finish.

As she waited for a voice to appear on the other end of the line, she felt a wave of cold air brush past her as Gibbs opened the door.

xxxxxxxxx

They had stopped speaking a while ago. Had it been a couple of minute? Five? Fifteen? More? He had no idea.

He felt his head loll to the side as he fought impending sleep. He struggled to maintain coherence as his mind became more and more jumbled. He couldn't recall why he was in this position, only that it was bad and he knew someone was with him, but who? Ziva or McGee? He was pretty sure it was McGee but he couldn't be positive.

He could feel his throat being ripped apart by his incessant coughing but the most uncomfortable thing seemed to be the inability to take a breath. His chest was terribly tight, painful even and whenever he tried to take a new breath he immediately started coughing keeping him from getting the oxygen he was craving. It was maddening.

Images moved through his mind. Some familiar, some not so familiar. He could see the faces of some nameless co-workers. Gibbs. A girl with pigtails. McGee. A woman wearing sunglasses, peering out of a window, grinning. A nurse bending over him, her eyes sad. A dark room, unfamiliar and cold. Jenny.

It was all so confusing.

A man holding a knife. A Buckeye's game. A Ford Mustang. A Spanish newspaper. Jeanne.

He tried to pull away, there was so much pain.

An older man with glasses and a friendly smile. A ship. Burning money. A man with dark hair. Rain. An open parachute. A woman with a neat, red hole in her forehead.

He had to hold on.

Baltimore. A man in chains. A car underwater. A man in a hospital bed.

A bright light.

Tony could swear that he heard a familiar voice calling his name. A strange warmth washed over him briefly and his eyes burned as the light beat against his eyelids. He searched his mind for a possible source and promptly gave up. He tried, he really tried.

In the background a voice pulled at him. He could feel the fatigue pull at him with equal force, it's deadly claws buried deep into his mind as he struggled to fight it for a moment longer.

He couldn't.

I'm sorry, Boss, he thought as he allowed it to pull him under into complete oblivion. I'm sorry.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Well ... they did find them so, I mean, it's *like* being rescued, kind of ...

Well I think that was a *much* faster update than last time, yes? I again enjoyed writing this very much and thank you for all your kind words, it is most appreciated! Writing this and hearing from all of you is keeping me sane during my master's work. Also! I know spasming isn't a real word, but we use it as RNs all the time so, well, I'm going to use it though it should be "going into spasms" - it's just awkward.

I hope you all continue to enjoy reading this nonsense. There are two chapters left and then i have a little vignette planned for after the end of this story, should anyone be interested.

As always, if you could find a minute to review and let me know what you think, i'd be much obliged!

Kila wakati ni wakati wa chai!


	4. Like Frankie Said

Rookie Mistakes

By: Mahiri Chuma

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own anything NCIS related – though I really wish I did, and *if* I did, oh the whumpage there would be!

Summary: He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. Toy and Tim make a rookie mistake.

A/N: Honestly, thank you all for the lovely reviews and your interest in this story. It really does help me get going a little faster! It's also lovely to have something like this when your life is just too darn busy, so I am really enjoying myself and I hope you are too! There is a bit of swearing in this story, so i beg you forgive me. Someone asked about the tag at the end of my chapter. "Kila wakati ni wakati wa chai" means, in Tanzanian Swahili, "Every time is tea time!" it's a little closing I enjoy and something I like to live by, because honestly, who doesn't love a good cup of tea? I'm sure McGee and DiNozzo sure could use one about now....on with the torture, ahem, story :)

xxxxxxxxxx

Rookie Mistakes

Chapter Four: Like Frankie Said

xxxxxxxxxxx

For as long as Gibbs had known the younger agent that was Tony DiNozzo, the man seemed to find an inexhaustible amount of ways to weed his way into some sort of trouble. He truly had a knack for it. A gift, Ducky had once called it.

So, when he opened that heavy steel door, a small voice in the back of his mind, one reserved only for Tony, told him he shouldn't have been surprised.

Nonetheless, he was.

The room was freezing and he felt his eyes water as the blast of cold air slammed into him like an arctic wind. He moved in cautiously, the lack of lighting making it difficult to see and he spotted the outlines of his two missing agents, both far too still for his liking.

Having found the room to be clear and with Ziva at the door, he holstered his weapon and kneeled beside the two agents. He watched the slow and shallow puffs of air that signaled they were still breathing and felt a surge of relief.

They were alive.

"DiNozzo! McGee!" he shouted at them urgently. Neither stirred and he fought the urge to slap them in the back of their heads just for not responding.

A quick assessment told him all he needed to know. They looked terrible, both pale with a hint of blue on their lips and under their eyes. If he hadn't been able to see their breath on the cold air he would have been sure they were dead. Their stillness was extremely disturbing.

He quickly felt for a pulse on both men. McGee's was far too slow and thready and DiNozzo's was almost non-existent.

He cursed under his breath. He needed to get them out of there now.

"Ziva!" Ziva's form appeared in the doorway as she pocketed her phone, having finished her call. She moved quickly, joining him in front of the two unconscious men.

She swallowed heavily and her eyes darted between them before settling on Gibbs.

"Are they -" She was glad she didn't have to finish the query as Gibbs gave her a quick, jerky head shake.

"No, help me get them out of here." his voice was urgent and held the smallest inkling of panic. Gibbs never panicked.

"Tony first. Grab his legs." Thoughts of the plague raced through his mind, as they did every time the younger man so much as coughed or sneezed. He wrapped his arms around Tony's chest and felt his throat tighten as his muscle's stiffened involuntarily from the cold.

He was freezing.

The side of Tony's face brushed his neck as he lifted him. His skin was like ice, radiating cold and almost painful to touch. In this position he could hear his breathing hitch as they shuffled out of the room and each new breath came out as a painful sounding wheeze.

He suddenly felt a near insurmountable rage towards whoever had done this to his agents. They hadn't just stumbled into that death trap. Someone had locked them in there and he was going to find out who.

They reached the warm air and moved a few feet from the freezer entrance before gently laying Tony on the ground, his head lolling to the side and his chest heaving in an awkward, uneven pattern.

Gibbs turned quickly on his heel without a second glance. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get in the way and staring at his ailing agent wasn't going to help. He still had one more agent to save and he'd be damned if he didn't get both of his men out of this alive.

Ziva moved along side him and helped him repeat the process with an equally unresponsive McGee. As they came into the light Gibbs could see the tell tale signs of frostbite on the man's hands. They were swollen and terribly blistered. He knew it was an extremely painful condition and he had seen men loose fingers to frostbite in warmer conditions. He could only hope that they had reached him before the damage had become irreversible. If they hadn't ...

"Ziva, what's the medics ETA?"

Ziva was keeling between the two agents. Her fingers were pressed against McGee's wrist, rechecking his pulse.

She looked up at him with serious eyes.

"Ten minutes." She repeated the procedure with Tony before taking his hand in one of her own. She reached for McGee's with her other hand, clenching both men's hands in her lap.

Gibbs would have smiled had the situation not been so terribly desperate. Though Ziva was incredibly tough and enjoyed obliterating any feminine stereotypes, there certainly was a nurturing side to her.

"And Ducky?" He began searching the room for something to throw over his freezing agents. The fact that they hadn't even begun to shiver, despite exposure to the significantly warmer air, was testament to how far their core temperatures must have dropped.

"Fifteen." Damn.

He found a large, thin, filthy cloth. One that had probably been used to cover some of the more perishable items in the large storage room. It wasn't ideal but it was something.

He tugged it over the two agent's bodies and watched carefully as their chests rose and fell, Tony's somewhat awkwardly.

"Ziva, go upstairs and wait for the ambulance." Though he could tell that she would prefer not to leave her fellow agents, she gave him a short nod and hurried up the stairs, towards the front of the building.

"McGee! McGee!" He tried again, tapping the man's cheek. For a moment, his eyes fluttered and Gibbs thought he was coming too. He wasn't. His eyes remained closed and he made no further response.

The man's breathing had become a little stronger but his hands were now flushed an angry red, no doubt from the thawing process that was to ensue.

"DiNozzo. Hey, DiNozzo!" He reached over to do the same to Tony but it proved unnecessary.

Tony choked awkwardly, his breaths coming in too fast to be replenishing.

"B-Boss." Gibbs leaned forward instinctively, the words sounding so similar to those uttered during his bout with the plague. He could only surmise that his apparent breathing difficulties were keeping him in the purgatory between awake and unconscious.

"DiNozzo, look at me. Tony!" He shouted, one arm grasping his shoulder. DiNozzo never disobeyed a direct order and he wasn't expecting the man to let him down now.

"Boss, sc-screwed up." The younger agent managed to open his eyes, though just barely. Tired, glossy hazel eyes stared up at him.

"Yeah, you did DiNozzo. Stay with me." The man's eyes were beginning to slip shut but Gibbs was determined to keep him awake.

Tony choked again, a small cough catching in his throat. Gibbs stomach churned in a 'somethings-very-wrong' sort of way as he watched the other man's breathing.

"M-McGee?"

"We got him." He turned towards the agent in question. His face was still pale and his eyes marked with bruise like splotches but he was still breathing.

"Screwed uu-p. M' s-sorry, B-boss." Gibbs wanted to quote his rule book as he usually did with the younger agent, but he simply didn't have it in him.

"It's ok, DiNozzo." He watched in slight despair as Tony coughed once more and allowed his eyes to slip close.

"Tony! Hey!" He shook his shoulder lightly but the man didn't respond.

"Where's my damned ambulance!" He shouted to no one in particular, a feeling of complete and utter hopelessness pulling at him as he kneeled between his prone agents on the cold, damp ground.

xxxxxxxxxx

Ziva raced up the dilapidated stairs and into the main dining area. She pushed a table out of her way, knocking it and it's contents onto the floor. She strained her ears, listening for any signs of the ambulance but found nothing but the sounds of the rundown street in front of the building.

She got to the door and waited.

She had never been an overly patient woman and now she found herself not knowing quite what to do with herself.

She holstered her gun, leaving one hand on the weapon and peered outside, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes while her thoughts drifted towards her teammates.

She had seen both Tim and Tony fall ill or become injured on the job but never at the same time. No, never like this and not so terribly incapacitated. She would never admit it to either of the men, especially Tony, but it chilled her to the bone.

What would she do if she lost them both? What would Gibbs do? She shook her head, removing any thoughts concerning that dark future and forced herself to focus on the job in hand. *At* hand, she corrected herself.

"Where's my damned ambulance?"

Ziva frowned as she began to wonder the same thing. There were no flashing lights. There were no sirens. She knew the response time to areas like this was somewhat lacking but she had hoped that her 'agents in distress' call would have given a greater sense of urgency.

She reached her hand into her pocket, preparing to make another call when she heard the side door open with a tentative squeak. She pushed herself against the wall and looked out the window. It wasn't the EMTs and Ducky would never enter unannounced.

She pulled out her gun and pushed herself against the wall, listening as two people entered, speaking in hushed voices.

"What do you mean federal agents?"

"Like FBI or some shit."

"Are you telling me you have two FBI agents locked up down there? Damn it, Frankie, what were you thinking?"

Ziva poked her head delicately around the corner, ensuring the two men didn't see her. Frankie, she thought. Tony and Tim had been on the trail of a man named Frank Delicatti this morning. Her eyes became two angry slits as she realized who this man was.

"They were sneaking around, Boss. What was I supposed to do? Give 'em free reign?"

Her eyes flit to the other man who was looking down thoughtfully as he smooth the wrinkles in his black suit pants. He looked as though the news was a mere inconvenience as he put a hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"No, you did good, Frankie. Were they alone?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they were alone."

She squeezed her gun tightly. When she got her hands on this man, oh the things she would do to him.

"Did they call anyone?"

"No. I don't think so."

The Boss put a hand up to his mouth, looking as though he were thinking. Just a moment more and she would have all the evidence she needed to bring this pair to trial so they could spend the rest of their miserable lives in jail.

"Ok, Frankie. We're gonna take care of this."

Ziva had heard enough. She turned around the corner, her gun pointed at the taller man in the suit.

"NCIS! On the ground!" She shouted. Both men jumped back, clearly startled by Ziva's appearance.

"Frankie!" the man shouted, his hands raised in the air from his crouched position. Frank backed away, reaching behind his back.

"Freeze! Don't do it!" She pointed her gun toward Frank, who was slowly trying to create distance between himself and his Boss.

"I will shoot! Get down!" The man pulled his weapon and she thought for a moment about Tony and Tim. She would have preferred to have more time with this man. Alone. Pity.

She pulled the trigger. In her peripheral vision she could see the other man pushed to the ground, shouting as his face was pushed into the unforgiving tile floor, blood immediately beginning to pool under his nose and mouth.

She could hear sirens in the distance. Finally.

Gibbs was on top of the man in the suit, his body thrashing wildly as he choked on the blood pooling in his mouth.

"You killed Frankie! You bitch, you killed him!" He choked, spitting a broken tooth on the floor.

"Shut up." Gibbs pushed the man's face roughly into the floor with a sickening crunch. He pushed his knee into the man's back and began to hand cuff him.

"You are under arrest for the attempted murder of two federal agents."

"Attempted murder? Fuck you! I didn't kill anyone." He bucked, trying to throw the larger man off his back, blood streaming from his twice broken nose.

His face was slammed back against the ground, this time splitting his brow. Ziva smiled humorlessly. An angry Gibbs was a Gibbs to be reckoned with.

Ziva heard the screech of tires, signaling the arrival of the ambulance. She pushed the door open and waved them inside. She felt a slight wave of relief as a familiar Medical Examiner's truck pulled in next to the ambulance.

"Gibbs, they are here."

Gibbs pulled the man up to his knees in an abrupt, violent tug, pushing him against the wall.

"Ziva, watch him."

Ziva nodded before stalking up to the man and digging her gun into the back of his neck.

"Gladly."

"Is that really necessary, Agent Ziva." the man hissed through a mouthful of blood and spit.

She pushed harder, causing the man to grunt in pain as the force caused the side of his face to grind painfully into the brick wall.

"More than necessary. If I had it my way you would be bleeding out on the floor next to your friend Frankie over there."

"Than why am I not, Ziva." She lifted his head back, grasping a handful of hear and turned his face towards his fallen partner, again grinding his face into brick.

"Because I want to see you rot in a jail cell for a very long time." The man stared at Frankie's body, trying to pull his head away from the gruesome sight.

"Fuck you. You've got nothin.'" She didn't allow him to turn away, instead she kept his head painfully pinned. She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

"I am going to make sure you will suffer where you are going."

xxxxxxxxxx

Gibbs handed the man off to Ziva, confident he was in the best hands possible and headed towards the door. The EMTs were gathering their stretcher as another ambulance approached. A familiar face approached the building, his steps hurried as they always were when dealing with an injury to one of their own.

"Oh my, Jethro. What have we here?" He took in the scene before him as Gibbs led him through a mess of broken tables and puddles of crimson liquid.

"Later, Duck." The elder medical examiner stepped lightly over the outstretched hand of a very dead man and glanced over at Ziva who was currently grinding a very much so alive man into a brick wall.

"Ziva's work I presume. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." He muttered as Gibbs hurried down a set of stairs.

He could hear the EMTs following closely behind them. He didn't know what awaited him at the bottom of the stairs. Ziva hadn't been as clear as he would have liked but from the apparent vengeance that had been dealt upstairs and by Gibbs surly demeanor, whatever it was, it wasn't good.

He had known Gibbs for a long time and had become very well acquainted with the other man's moods. The Gibbs he was dealing with now wasn't happy. No, definitely not. But, though many people wouldn't be able to tell, he was also very worried and that never sat well with Ducky.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, the EMTs close behind. The first thing he noticed was the tangible chill in the air. The storage room, of course. They always kept it cooler than the rest of the building.

The second thing was the bodies of two familiar agents lying prone and extremely pale on the ground. One breathing noisily and the other completely motionless.

"Oh, Jethro..."

xxxxxxxxxx

So, I am getting better with update time! I feel so proud! I think it's because it's the only thing keeping me sane in school. Four hours of sleep a night, studying all waking hours and spending the rest of my time at the hospital ... all I have are my NCIS ficlets now. Isn't that a sad shame? Oh well.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you so much for the feedback and favorites! It means a lot to me and really fuels that muse. I love writing this fic and I'm somewhat sad it's coming to it's end! Well, at least NCIS starts back up! I will continue updating my other story, Messages from Gaza, however if anyone is interested.

Again, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I promise to continue with my updating swiftness. Have a wonderful week and remember to carpe that diem.

Bandar kya jaane adark ka swaad!


	5. It's Oh So Quiet

Rookie Mistakes  
**By:** Mahiri Chuma  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything NCIS related – though I really wish I did, and *if* I did, oh the whumpage there would be!

**Summary: **He just couldn't help but think that it would be such a stupid way to die. Toy and Tim make a rookie mistake.

**A/N:** Sorry this update was slower coming than the last three. I nearly died under an avalanche of graduate work. I made it through, however, so here we are. Thanks again for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this one, I always enjoy writing them and our boys are just to darn cute to leave alone for long….

xxxxxxxxxx

Rookie Mistakes  
Chapter Five: It's Oh So Quiet

xxxxxxxxxxx

Tony's eyes flew open as a pain in his chest made itself known. He felt terrible. He was impossibly cold yet felt the familiar tremors of hypothermia and each breath felt like a stab to the lungs.

He could tell he was moving, or rather being moved, as his stomach performed flip-flops that would make an acrobat jealous. He tried desperately to force his brain to register the blurry, nondescript images that raced across his field of vision but couldn't seem to get past white blurs and an occasional flash of light.

He felt a familiar prick in his arm and did his best to look down. His head felt awfully heavy …

He racked his brain for a reason for what was happening. Had he not been so exhausted he would have cried out in frustration as his thoughts became impossibly jumbled. One moment he felt as though he was nearing a breakthrough, the next he was thinking about the next season of Magnum he would watch.

Someone shouted and Tony felt himself being pulled quickly to the left. He struggled to breathe as the pain became oppressive, his chest refusing to rise. He could feel his heart rate beat awkwardly, speeding up and slowing down as it attempted to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

His head throbbed and he fought against the pain in his muscles as his own shivering became unbearable, the muscles contracting in a sporadic and excessive manner.

A strange almost uncomfortable warmth began to crawl up his right arm, through his veins and throughout his body. His heart began to slow it's terrible pace and breathing only became harder. His vision swam, worsening to the point where he was unsure he was really seeing anything at all. He felt himself choke as his throat became suddenly tight. He felt as though he were fading away, about to pass out but lingering between awake and unconsciousness for a tortuously prolonged amount time.

So, it came as an absolute shock when he very suddenly came to awareness, the nature of his discomfort all to clear and the world around him disturbingly alive.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Gibbs hopped off the ambulance, quickly moving out of the way to allow the medics to do their work. He watched somewhat helplessly as they wheeled the junior agent through the doors, bundling him in an impressive amount of blankets.

The EMTs had done their best to bring the man's temperature up and had been somewhat successful, raising his temperature 1.3 degrees during the trip. His face remained pale and he had been unresponsive to stimulus but he appeared to be responding well to treatment. They were, however, concerned with the blossoming frostbite on his hands, the tissue angry and red and the swelling continuing it's expansion.

He followed the men through the Emergency Department doors, watching as an attending physician hurried over, checking the man's pupils and inspecting the blistering hands.

He continued to trail the team and made it fifteen feet past the waiting room when a nurse stopped in front of him, holding up a hand.

"Sir, unless your next of kin you can't be in here."

"I'm his Boss, damnit." The nurse seemed unimpressed and stood her ground.

"I'm sorry, sir. Unless you are related to Mr…" she looked down at the green binder designated to the new patient.

"McGee. Special Agent Timothy McGee." Gibbs offered, his voice impatient. He punctuated his annoyance by taking another step forward, intending to follow the team as they began to move out of sight.

"Sir! Unless you are related to Special Agent McGee, I cannot let you through. A doctor will come to inform you of his condition once he is stable."

The nurse looked at him with an expression that nearly pleaded with him to adhere to her request. Gibbs mind worked quickly as she began to lead him towards the exit.

"Agent DiNozzo. Has Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo come in yet? A Dr. Donald Mallard should be with him." It had been hard to be split between his two agents and had it been physically possible he would have been with both.

Luckily, Ducky had answered the call and insisted that he would do his best to insure the senior agent would be well cared for especially seeing that he could offer his expertise concerning Tony's rather unique past medical history.

Gibbs had watched as they closed the ambulance doors, driving into the oncoming dusk, sirens wailing. When the ambulance passed from sight, his stomach tightened.

Now, the nurse stood cross-armed in front of the agent, her eyes suspicious.

"Sir, like I said, next o-"

Gibbs voice interrupted her own, the sound unusually soft.

"I am his next of kin." She narrowed her eyes, certain he was just trying to do anything he could to get past those doors. In her field of work she was use to people trying to have one over on her and it sometimes became difficult to distinguish the truth from a lie.

"There's no one else who c-" Gibbs shook his head almost solemnly and he found himself taking a step closer.

"There's no one else." He watched as her eyes softened and she sighed in defeat.

"Okay," she nodded, reaching for a clipboard, "okay, please sign in, I'll let them know you're coming. He's extremely agitated, you can't go in the room but you may wait outside, it may do some good for you to –"

Gibbs nearly did a double take as he accepted the pen and began to write his name.

"He's conscious?" He hadn't expected that, it was no wonder she was allowing him entrance during the examination.

She nodded quietly and took the clipboard back from him. He then followed her through the hospital corridors until she came to a stop in front of what seemed to be Tony's room.

"Now if you would just have a seat here, we reserve this area for the families – Hey!"

She turned to see the man push his way into the room.

"Sir, if you are going to wait here you must –"

Gibbs continued to ignore her protests and moved in behind the staff. The nurse turned on her heels in a huff and made her way towards the nurse's station to call security.

Gibbs had been just in time to see a doctor inject something into his IV port and only moments later watched as the younger man took a deep breath, his eyes wide open and his body shaking uncontrollably.

Tony looked at Gibbs wild-eyed, recognition clear in his expression along with pain and panic.

"What'd you give my agent?" Gibbs raised his voice as he made his way to the bedside. Tony had gained some color back having been started on the warmed IV therapy and after being bundled in warm blankets, but his lips still maintained that disturbing shade of blue. A sickly grey smudge shadowed his eyes and he blinked tiredly, terribly painful sounding coughs squeezing out of his abused lungs.

"Jethro," he hadn't even seen Ducky in the room, but there he was, drawing up another syringe, "it was epinephrine, his blood pressure is dangerously low and he is going into shock."

He inserted the needle once more, delivering another dose of the stimulating hormone.

"You should not be here! Please wait outside Jethro!"

"Boss." Any hopes of Gibbs leaving by choice were destroyed when he heard Tony's panicked voice. "C-Cold. H-hurts .. to b-"

"Don't speak, Anthony, save your energy. We will take care of you, my boy." Ducky offered gently as he plunged another syringe into the port.

Tony nodded, taking rapid breaths as he clenched his eyes tightly shut. His hands gripped the sides of the bed tightly, his knuckles white and his hands quaking.

Gibbs swallowed heavily just barely getting past the lump in his throat. Tony looked much younger as his face crunched in pain, his brows turned upwards in a frown. Gibbs moved his hand towards the younger agents own. He gripped the hand, removing the impossible grip from the rails and was shocked to find his hands were ice cold despite the quickly draining, heated saline solution

Tony looked up at Gibbs, his eyes bright with pain, as he took in breaths no longer adequate for his quickly fading body.

"McG-"

"Shh, Tony. He's fine." Tony nodded and coughed painfully, his other hand gripping at his chest.

Gibbs watched as the man's chest rose and fell awkwardly, one side seeming to not move with his respirations.

"It appears to be a pneumothorax, doctor." Ducky nodded as he opened a sterile kit containing a painfully large needle and a mess of tubing.

"Quite right, we will need to work quickly." Gibbs watched the physicians move together, preparing the terrible looking appliances with great vitesse. He watched as the already existing panic grew in the younger man's eyes and his respirations became even more distressed.

"Anthony, my boy, it is imperative that you relax, concentrate on your breathing." Tony tried to nod and failed. Why was it so hard to breathe? It shouldn't be this bad …

Gibbs watched as his senior agent became less responsive, his breathing disturbingly slow and shallow.

"Tony, listen to Ducky. We need you to breathe." Gibbs bent down to his level, his words soft and calm amongst the hurried movements of the medical staff. How was a patient supposed to relax when the people around him were moving around in such urgency?

"Anthony, we must put a chest tube in, you are going to feel some discomfort …" Ducky trailed off, giving Gibbs a pointed look. By discomfort he meant pain, they hadn't time to wait for the anesthetic to kick in to it's full potential and anything that would work quickly enough or sedate him would depress his respirations.

"Jethro, perhaps you should wait outside." Ducky made his way to Tony's side, holding the sterile equipment above his patient.

Gibbs looked down at his agent. His face was a mask of pain and he was terribly pale. He had yet to relinquish his hold on Gibb's hand and there was no way Gibbs was going to pull away and leave him to deal with even more pain.

Gibbs watched as Ducky cleansed the area to be catheterized and gently moved Tony's arm up above his head.

"Alright, Anthony. We are going to insert the tube, are you ready, dear boy?" Tony nodded very slightly, his breaths sounding terribly painful as they strained against the mask over his face.

Ducky gave Gibbs a solemn nod, bending down.

"You can do this Tony."

Tony's eyes flickered open and caught Gibb's own serious gaze for a moment before promptly shutting them when he felt a strange pressure against his ribs. The local anesthetic had done it's job; the incision had gone relatively unnoticed. That was where it's work ended however.

Ducky worked quickly, cutting a neat incision between the ribs making quick work of skin tissue and muscle. He reached over, picking up the tube from the sterile field and with swift and experienced hands moved the tube into the incision.

Tony's eyes shot open and he gasped, the breath short and painful as he felt the tube scrape between his ribs. He grunted in pain and tightened his already bone crushing hold on Gibb's hand.

"Easy, Anthony. I know this is rather uncomfortable but you must do your best to remain still."

Tony tried to keep from sitting up and pushing Ducky away as his body shook from the tension and from his still thawing body. He ground his teeth as there was an audible popping sound, the pain excruciating and his vision blurring as he nearly lost consciousness.

"That's it. Well done, my boy, well done." Ducky patted the man's shoulder fondly as he attached the necessary equipment to the tube. The older man checked Tony's temperature and sighed.

93.9.

Now that Tony's breathing had been attended to they could focus on raising his temperature. His current temperature was an improvement from his earlier 90.2 but this was still dangerously low and his current consciousness could only be attributed to the high amount of adrenaline that had been introduced to his failing system.

Gibbs watched as Tony relaxed slightly, his expression still pained but his breathing was much improved, still raspy but no longer a terrible struggle.

"You did good, Tony." He said softly to the younger agent. Tony gave a small nod and Gibbs laid a reassuring hand on his head. Tony's face relaxed with the comforting gesture. Ducky and his colleagues continued packing the heated pads around his body and Gibbs could already begin to see the unhealthy blue fade from his face.

Trusting Tony was in the best of care he gave his hand another firm squeeze and watched as he fell into a deep, healing sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Gibbs walked quickly down the corridor as he looked for the junior agent's room. Balancing attention between his two ailing agents would prove to be exhausting as they had been conveniently placed 2 floors apart.

He made it to the room just in time to intercept the attending physician. Gibbs peered inside and was pleased to find that he like Tony had regained a more healthy color and seemed to be sleeping. His hands, however, were wrapped tightly in gauze bandages.

"How's he doing, Doctor?"

The doctor looked at him quizzically.

"Are you Special Agent Gibbs?" Gibbs nodded and watched as the physician thumb through the chart.

"Ms. Sciuto informed me you would be here for an update." He trailed off as the sound of platform shoes clicking across down the hallway.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! I came as soon as Ziva told me!" The young forensic scientist gave Gibbs a quick hug and whirled around to face the doctor.

"Is he ok? They said I wasn't allowed in yet. What's the prognosis!?" Abby wrung her hands, her voice filled with worry and she found herself unable to stand still, bouncing slightly as she waited for his reply.

"We managed to bring Agent McGee's temperature back up though it's not yet within the range we'd like it. He also has second-degree frostbite on his hands, they've blistered quite badly and we expect a recovery time of about three weeks."

Gibbs took in the information mentally preparing himself for what was to come. Two agents were in the hospital and both men were on desk duty when they returned. DiNozzo would undoubtedly do his best to get back in the field AMA and McGee would surely experience difficulty performing his duties with bandaged hands.

"We also have him on an IV drip and morphine. The thawing process related to frostbite can be quite painful."

"Oh Timmy …" Abby muttered sympathetically before continuing, "Can we see him?"

"I don't see why not, though I don't expect him to wake up until tomorrow morning."

The doctor opened the door allowing Gibbs and Abby inside and quietly left them in search of Dr. Mallard.

Abby slunk slowly to the bedside and planted a light kiss on the man's forehead, her red lip stick leaving a mark on his pale skin. Gibbs joined her, giving the man's shoulder a light squeeze as he took in his appearance.

McGee wasn't often the one confined in a hospital bed so it was somewhat startling to see the man in such a state. Sure he had had his fair share of cuts, bruises, bumps and burns but never anything like this.

Abby too seemed to share his opinion as she looked him up and down, a strong frown etched in her usually bubbly features. Abby fell into Gibbs side allowing him to pull her into a quick embrace before pulling a chair next to Tim's bed.

"Sit, Abs." Abby nodded and she sat without another word, her gaze never leaving the agent's face.

Gibbs took the remaining seat across the room watching the steady rise and fall of the agent's chest. Though the both looked terrible, it was a great relief to see that both agents were out of immediate danger. Both agents were still suffering from hypothermia, their temperatures still in the low 90's and their complexion still unnaturally pale, but they seemed to be responding well to the treatment performed by Ducky and the physicians.

"It's like we're cursed, Gibbs."

Abby broke the silence, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on McGee's unbandaged wrist.

"Like, really bad cursed. Someone out to get us cursed or … or voodoo cursed." Gibbs listened silently as Abby contemplated out loud; it always seemed to be her best way of dealing with things, "I mean barely a day goes by where _someone _isn't shot at or knocked unconscious or tortured," she paused as if in reflection, "and by someone I mean Tony."

Gibbs couldn't help but smirk. She certainly was right about that.

"We just can't get a break. I've tried everything too, Gibbs. Really I have!" She lifted her fingers ready to count off all her failed attempts, "I've tried burning certain oils, meditation, I've tried slipping good luck charms in everyone's desks, I've tried giving up Caff-Pow and when _that_ didn't work I tried drinking more Caff-Pow …"

Abby sighed as she gently touched McGee's bandaged hand.

"And still nothing works! It's like I'm powerless to do anything, Gibbs! My forensics can't help me here; it couldn't help Ziva when she was in trouble or Tony when he was sick," Abby swallowed and looked at Gibbs, her eyes glistening, "What if – I mean, I don't know what I'd do if –"

A loud beeping interrupted her monologue and Gibb's watched as a nurse hurried in to silence the alarm.

"What is that?" Gibbs asked, standing as he did so. Abby's ponderings had him thinking and he really hoped things weren't going to take a turn for the worse as Abby' theory would predict.

"The pulse ox. alert. It beeps whenever a patient's oxygen saturation falls below 95%."

Gibbs' brow furrowed in concern as the nurse began to listen to McGee's chest.

"He's not getting enough oxygen?" Abby was watching the nurse's movements attentively as she bit her bottom lip in concern.

"Advanced hypothermia can cause respiratory failure but we are past that point but," Gibbs hated 'buts', "the cold air is hard on the lungs and we worry about pneumonia and other respiratory illnesses."

"Right, cooling decreases lung compliance," the nurse nodded as Abby couldn't help but work through the information herself, "so when his temperature is back up we should see an improvement, right?"

"That's right, but," Gibbs would have cringed if he was prone to such things, "the trauma can result in serious illness, like I said before."

Gibbs mind raced as he watched the nurse pick up the bedside table and request the respiratory therapy team to the room. He had gone through this with DiNozzo and he didn't know if he could bear to go through it with McGee.

Abby stroked Tim's hand as the nurse re-calibrated the IV pump next to the bed. Gibbs watched as she chewed her lip and rambled quietly to the unconscious man, much as she had done with him a moment before. He had known her for along time and could tell when she was worried or upset or angry but this was something a little different.

Now she didn't have Tony there to joke with her and convince her with all his intensity that he would fix things; nor did she have McGee there to offer a hug and convince her everything would be ok.

He didn't know how she, or any of them for that matter, was going to get any rest or maintain some semblance of sanity with two agent's lives on the line. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the scumbag Ziva was currently interrogating. He hoped she wasn't being too liberal with his so-called rights.

His jaw clenched tightly as a flurry of action signaled the arrival of the respiratory team. They checked the monitor and talked in hushed voices as they too listened to his chest before politely asking the two to leave the room for a moment.

Gibbs nodded and led Abby out to the hall and into the waiting room. He briefly massaged his temples as Abby's words echoed in his head. They really couldn't catch a break, could they? Was it so much to ask?

He looked up just in time to see Ducky rush by. He poked his head out of the room and signaled the other man.

"Duck, looking for me?" The elder man looked flustered and quite worn as he made his way to Gibbs.

"Jethro, I was just on my way to find you and visit young Timothy when I heard the page for the respiratory team." Gibbs blinked hoping Ducky would get to the point sooner rather than later.

"They're in there now Duck, how's it look?" Duck hesitated for a moment.

"Well, that is what I'm here to find out but I needed to talk to you first."

"Spit it out, Duck." Gibbs said slightly frustrated, the man truly knew how to hold one in suspense.

"Well, Brad was gracious enough to meet me here for a consulation and well … it's about Anthony."

xxxxxxxxx

Who doesn't love to torture those two, honestly? I wonder what that says about us hurt/comfort lovers … I apologize again for the wait, I was, well, distracted and busy. Just to inform you I have (somewhat moronically) began two other stories and will be rotating updates unless anyone objects … but, I hope you enjoyed this little chapter and I thank you for your continued support and reviews, it really means a lot to me, especially with this as my only real outlet during grad school. You guys are truly wonderful and quite insightful! Thank you!

Also, Happy Thanksgiving to all you American readers out there! I for one cannot wait to eat until I myself need to be hospitalized. Anyway, thanks again everyone!

Og ég fæ blóðnasir ...en ég stend alltaf upp!


	6. Banana Popsicles and Italian Ice

Rookie Misakes  
**By:** Mahiri Chuma  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer** I don't own anything NCIS related – though I really wish I did, and *if* I did, oh the whumpage there would be!  
**A/N:** Hello there! I am terribly sorry for the wait, I started the chapter a LONG time ago and then my father got in a car accident and I had to go home and help take care of him for a while – I left school and work and the like but now I am finally back on track and writing. Again, I apologize for the wait and hope you enjoy the chapter all the same

xxxxxxxxxx

- Rookie Mistakes -  
Chapter Six: Banana Popsicles and Italian Ice

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, Brad was gracious enough to meet me here for a consultation and well … it's about Anthony."

If Gibbs were one for theatrics he would have thrown his hands in the air in a fit of exasperation. _Of course_ it was about Anthony, when had he ever been standing in a hospital facing a situation that wasn't about the younger agent?

Never.

"What is it Duck?" Gibbs could only assume that if Brad was involved than this was about Tony's lungs. Brad and Tony's lungs were an association that had been ingrained in his mind like an ugly scar. "His lungs?"

Ducky shook his head and Gibbs furrowed his brow in confusion.

"No, well, I sure hope there are no further complications – the poor lad has enough to deal with. Bradley has not yet had the opportunity to look at our dear Anthony …"

"Then what's going on, Duck?" Gibbs spat, frustrated with the elderly ME's long-winded and unrevealing explanation.

"A moment, Jethro. Bradley was going to perform an examination, but unfortunately, well, I am afraid Anthony is running a bit of a fever and well, he is experiencing a bout of delirium …"

"A fever? I thought he was hypothermic?"

"He was, but given the stress and shock of the procedure the fluctuation is not abnormal …_"

Gibbs frowned slightly.

"Have they given him anything?" He had seen delirium before. As a marine he had been forced to watch men caught between reality and nightmare – always nightmare – as they struggled to fight off the hunger of death. He would never wish this state on the younger agent.

"We would sedate him but given his respiratory history and the pneumothorax we are somewhat hesitant to do that, at least for the next 24 hours."

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs turned away from the man, heading for the stairs, "you know where to find me, keep me updated on McGee."

Ducky watched as Gibbs hurried down the hall and sighed.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Gibbs had arrived just in time.

Two nurses were trying desperately to calm their patient while they began strapping restraints to his bed. The heart monitor raced as he struggled, his eyes wide with fear. He could see the sheen of sweat on the other man's temples and could tell he was running a fever. Tony plus a fever plus the painkillers they had given really was the winning combination for a delirium driven nightmare.

"You don't understand!" Tony protested loudly in a hoarse voice – the nurses shushed him, desperate to keep him from pulling on his chest tube. He was barely strong enough to lift his head but he continued to put up a meager fight. "I need – I need to help him."

"Can we get the PRN Morphine in here?" The nurse attempted to slap one of the restraints onto the struggling patients wrists. A small rivulet of blood leaked from the incision on his chest into the sheets.

"He doesn't do well with morphine." Gibbs offered as he approached the bedside. The nurses looked up, relieved that someone might be able to calm their patient.

"He's spiked a small fever, this just started ten minutes ago - his orders say no Fentanyl for at least 24 hours." The nurse explained, eyeing the older Agent as he too a seat.

"Tony." The younger men tossed his head back in forth, murmuring to himself, his eyes fluttering open and closed. "DiNozzo."

"We-we hafta' go back." He coughed pathetically. Gibbs put a gentle hand on the man's shoulder, opting for a different tactic. He felt a small thrill of satisfaction as he stilled under his touch.

"Go back where?" The nurses watched their patient cease his feeble thrashing under the other man's care and nearly sighed in relief. Using restraints was a last resort; they really didn't want to have to subject their already confused patient to confinement.

He gave them a small nod, assuring them he had the situation under control. They eyed him nervously before checking the IV drip and heart monitor; satisfied they quietly exited the room.

Gibbs watched Tony's pale face as he fought an internal battle.

"Tony, go back where?" Tony looked up at Gibbs weakly, his eyes glossy with fever and confusion.

"Boss, we have to," he slurred, looking as though he had forgotten. His eyes widened once more, "McGee! McGee, Boss – I-I left 'em."

"Tony, look at me." Tony looked at him for a moment before looking away. He tried to push himself up.

"Tony, stop. McGee is fine." Tony looked as though he were going to panic as he tried to fight the hand against his chest.

"Boss, yo-you don't understand." Gibbs pushed him down lightly, feeling the heat radiating off him. "I left him – I let the door close, I let it close and I left, I le-."

His words trailed off as a weak cough wracked his body.

"DiNozzo, you did not leave him. McGee is safe. He's here." Tony shook his head weak weakly, his voice painfully hoarse.

"No, no I-I, Boss, I really, really … I think I messed up." In his fevered and drug-induced state, Gibbs could see the confession really hitting home. Gibbs couldn't – didn't – blame Tony for this mess and he knew in this state it would be hard to comfort him. He took things hard enough when he was healthy.

"No, Tony," Gibbs said with forced calm as Tony tried to sit up; he didn't know much about chest tubes but the younger man looked about a bottle cap away from tearing the thing straight out and that made him uncharacteristically nervous, "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't mess up."

Tony continued to fight weakly against Gibbs outstretched arm, a fine sheen glossing his features as his brow furrowed in confusion.

"No, I-I saw him. He's dying, Boss, I think he –" Gibbs watched the man's face twist in pain as a trail of wetness ran from his eyes to the stark white pillow, "I should have checked myself –"

This wasn't going to work.

"Tony," Gibbs said in a low voice, one that he had once reserved only for Kelly. When Tony had been so terribly sick with the plague he had found that his aimless talking had comforted the man most, "Do you trust me?"

He watched as the man nodded, his expression pinched and tight, before shaking his head, no.

"Yeah, I trust you, Boss, but you-you can't trust me, no, you-I…"

"Tony, shut up and listen to me." The younger man, despite his delirium-induced confusion, had been shocked into silence.

"Two years ago I was working a case," He paused for a moment, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, "I thought I knew what was best and I decided to go it alone."

"I let it get too personal and it took a woman drowning for me to realize it." Maddie's face was still so clear in his mind, the way her features grew slack as she succumbed to the lack of oxygen. Around then his memory grew hazy – he could remember seeing Tony and watching his figure blur as he swam up towards the bright, shifting surface and then, waking up on a pier.

Ducky had finally filled him in on the events of that day two weeks later all whilst he entertained his silent guilt as his Agent did his best to hide the coughing and sneezing,

He knew Tony had saved them both, himself and Maddie, and when Ducky had come to him, urging him to get over his 'ridiculous emotional constipation' and discuss the case with the younger man, he froze. Ducky went on to increase the guilt by explaining that he had not only hurt the younger man by making him think he didn't trust him or want him on his six, but he had also failed to thank him properly.

He owed it to Tony and now he regretted that it took fevered delirium to finally pull it out of him.

"You had my six that day, Tony. If it hadn't been for you, we would both be dead." He moved a hand to the younger Agent's shoulder, glad, in a strange way to feel the warmth radiating from him – it was better than that terrible cold he had felt before.

Tony was looking at him intently, his eyes glossy but more focused than they had been previously. His breaths were still terribly ragged and Gibbs was sure Tony was about to sweat through his gown. Gibbs felt an uncomfortable ache in the pit of his stomach, something that rarely, if ever happened. His gaze fell briefly and suddenly his throat felt tight and gravelly. He looked up once more.

"Tony, there is no one I trust more than you."

He knew that Ducky would approve. In his book, that was better than any thank-you he could ever grin and bear.

As Tony's expression grew more relaxed, Gibbs wondered if the younger man would remember this. The fear in his eyes had gone for the time being and he hoped, not completely unselfishly, that he would in fact be able to recall his words for he had meant them.

"B'ss…" Tony's voice came so quietly Gibbs nearly missed it.

"Get some sleep, DiNozzo." He said in a low voice. "I've got your six."

"Th'nks."

Finally, he slept.

---------------

Ziva cleared her throat in slight annoyance as Agent Plaut crossed in front of her just as her camera shutter snapped close – by now she had three photos of the man whose greatest skill seemed to be impeding her ability to collect evidence.

The man finally moved out of frame and she continued her work.

The small room before her, hidden behind an unassuming rack, was filled to it's five foot ceiling with weaponry of all genres – they had been stacked and sorted according to type, the smaller corners filled with ammunition and small explosive devices – Ziva snapped a photo of a gun's barrel, the serial number scratched away.

It was clear that many, if not all, of the weapons had been illegally procured.

Satisfied that she had sufficiently photographed the room she stepped backwards and turned around to photograph the industrial freezer. Her face scrunched up in anger as visions of Tony and Tim filled her mind and she raised the camera to capture the scene.

Once more, Agent Plaut crossed in front of her, an evidence bag in his hand.

"Do you mind?" she snapped, "I am trying to process the scene and so far I have enough photographs of you to fill your FaceSpace page."

Agent Plaut stopped, looking perplexed for a moment and then aggravated.

"Excuse me?"

Ziva had rarely been forced to suffer working with replacement teams, but it was a task she dreaded – she had grown accustomed to Tony's impossible pestering and unusual charm and McGee's fast-paced techno-babble and his camaraderie during Tony's most insufferable teasing. She had processed a scene without one of her fellow teammates before but this was the first without both – she didn't think it was something she wanted to repeat.

"You," she pointed her finger into his chest, "have been in my way all day and I am not in the mood – take your bag of," she glanced down at the evidence bag in his hand and her annoyance increased when she saw it appeared empty, "of nothing and please, find elsewhere to be less than helpful."

Agent Plaut opened his mouth in retaliation but before he could offer his own set of harsh words her cell phone rang and she turned away leaving him to stew in his anger.

"David."

"_Ziva, have you processed the scene?"_ Gibbs voice rang loudly through her speaker. She had been waiting for this call all afternoon; the adrenaline that had been rushing through her body since her fight with the two men had done nothing to help her nerves.

"We are almost done here …"

"_Well, finish up. I need you and Marconi in interrogation."_ The other man had been quickly identified after being brought into custody and was being processed while she worked the scene.

"Got it," she paused for a moment, waiting. When it became clear that Gibbs had nothing to offer she continued, "How are –"

"_They'll live. Get Marconi."_ That was all the answer she needed. Gibbs was telling her to get the bastard for what he had done. She ended the call and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

She'd get all the evidence she needed to put him away for life.

--------------

Tim felt blissfully warm. His body felt heavy and as though it were draped in a lead blanket and he could feel his hands pulsing with each beat of his heart; it was a strange sensation but he couldn't seem to make himself care.

He fought the strange fog, managing to take a deep, replenishing breath and something at the back of his mind reveled in the fact that the air no longer bit into his lungs; why this thought crossed his mind escaped him for the moment.

He could vaguely make out a voice somewhere in the background but it was just about as easy to understand as a teacher in a Charlie Brown movie. The fog was beginning to lift and he tried to open his eyes but they might as well have been sewn shut.

As he sunk deeper into the warmth, he felt himself drifting back into unconsciousness –

_BANG!_ The sound of something heavy hitting the ground followed by a shout sent a rush of adrenaline through his body and he felt himself jerk awake, his eyes snapping open, the heaviness gone.

"Careful!" "Who put the crash kit here?" "Dana, she was last shift."

He felt himself moving to sit up and a sharp, uncomfortable tug at his left wrist. A loud, fast paced beeping rang in his ears and he was hit with a sudden wave of vertigo.

"Timmy!"

He blinked rapidly as he tried to clear his vision, why did he feel so sluggish? An amorphous purplish blob was moving in front of him, shouting in a raspy voice that reverberated through his skull.

Something touched his right shoulder, pushing him back slightly and he was sure he could make out someone telling him to 'calm down.'

"Can you hear me? Blink twice for yes, once for no! You're not blinking –"

As his more observant and deductive side began to emerge from the haze, a voice told him the shouting was coming from one Abby Sciuto.

"Abr-mmy?" He shook his head at the rather unsuccessful attempt. With some effort he forced his eyes open once more, noticing it was hazy around the edges of his vision leading him to realize that he must be on painkillers. Good painkillers.

"I resent that!" Her tone had softened to a much more bearable decibel. He turned his head to his right and saw her sitting in an uncomfortable, plastic chair, her pigtails slightly frayed and a huge grin on her face. "How's my favorite banana-flavored popsicle!?"

McGee's forehead bunched together in confusion at the question. He wasn't sure which to be more confused by, the banana-flavored part or the popsicle bit.

"Abs?"

"How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Too cold? Hot? Should I get the nurse? I'll go get the nur –"

He shook his head, cutting her off from her tirade, trying to stop her before she rushed off.

"Abs, m' fine. Wha' happened?"

She scrunched her nose and he felt as though he were missing something; there it was again, that voice of reason that was insisting he listen.

"You don't remember?" That was not something one wanted to hear after waking up. He shook his head and began gathering facts, hoping to beat her to the punch.

He was in a hospital so something obviously had gone wrong. Ducky wasn't anywhere to be seen so he must be busy. Abby was here but no Gibbs or Tony so either they were working the case – whichever case probably landed him here – flirting (in Tony's case) or incapacitated …

Shit.

He could remember bits and pieces, mainly of being so cold it burned and of Tony and the terrible, ragged coughing and hacking and maybe, at one point, holding the man's weight in his arms.

"Tony …" he gasped, attempting to sit up once again. This time his tired muscles kept him from making progress and he felt his head loll back against the scratchy pillow.

"Don't worry, our silver-haired fox is with him."

"How is he?" He couldn't imagine that 'fine' was a suitable descriptor for the senior Agent, not after what they had experienced. Abby bit her lip.

"He has – HAD – a collapsed lung but Ducky fixed it. I know he will be okay," she made a face and fidgeted with her hands for a moment, "I mean I think he will be, this is Tony, right?"

McGee nodded half-heartedly, taking in the information. No wonder the other man had sounded so terrible – if he had had that collapsed lung while they were stuck in that terrible freezer he didn't think he would have survived another hour …

"Tony is Tony, Abs," he cleared his throat trying to get rid of the residual hoarseness, "He's like a bad stain, you can't get rid of him."

He hoped his words would hold true; his trust in Ducky was great and the fact that it had been the elderly ME that took care of Tony made him fairly confident.

He was rewarded with a light kiss to the cheek. McGee felt a small rush of relief and reached up to touch his face and stopped when he was met with the feeling of cloth rather than his own fingers.

"What – what's this?" he said, observing his heavily gauzed hands.

Abby couldn't hold back her amusement as she saw the gears beginning to turn in McGee's head.

"It's ok, Mr. Gemcity," she gave him a sly grin before continuing, "you just blistered your hands a bit. You'll be back to writing and hacking about 4 weeks."

"Four weeks?" He threw his – what he now considered useless – hands in the air in exasperation, allowing them to fall heavily back to the bed, the small movement exhausting, "I can't even pull desk duty like this, Abs."

"Au contraire, mon frère," she smiled, "Gibbs will have plenty for you to do. You can even help me in my lab! I've always wanted a human beaker holder, you wont even need gloves!"

"Great." He grumbled. The thought of being exposed to corrosives and an inordinate amount of papers to file was all too exciting. He tested his fingers, trying to wiggle them and hissed when he brought alive the once dormant pain.

"Stop that. You're still thawing." Abby admonished as he lifted his hands to eye level and sighed. Her comment brought back a burning question.

"Banana-flavored popsicle, Abs?"

---------------

Again, dear readers, I am so sorry for the wait! I did have a reason but my, that long sis nearly inexcusable. I hope you enjoyed that chapter; there is one more chapter and an epilogue left so we're almost there and I can put this strange tale to rest.

Thanks for your continued support and if you feel so inclined, please review! I promise not to take 5-6 months on the next one!

* Singe, als würde Dich niemand hören. Lebe, als wäre es der Himmel auf Erden! *


End file.
